


Ascendancy

by Spadefish



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Injury, M/M, it's just really mean okay, leo is terrible and takumi suffers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:59:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadefish/pseuds/Spadefish
Summary: Nohr conquers Hoshido. Leo takes Takumi as a spoil of war.





	Ascendancy

**Author's Note:**

> It's sad and there isn't any sort of happy ending or redemption. I may add a second part later to include some Xander/Takumi, who knows.

It’s almost nightfall by the time you finally hear the horn blow. It’s a low and droning sound.  
Advance. Victory. Finally, it’s over. You’ve been fighting long and hard, week after week of  
constant toil and bloodshed, and now it’s finally paid off.

The high prince of Hoshido is slain.

It’s funny, it doesn’t seem like much of a notable day. There’s a light breeze blowing, and you’ve  
been picking your way through Hoshidan soldiers on the outskirts of the palace. The only  
difference is that your retainers aren’t with you. You’d instructed them to move ahead of you, to  
find the second prince of Hoshido and incapacitate him for you. Truth be told, you’ve had plans  
for him for a while now, and you’re looking forward to them. You haven’t seen too much of him  
on the battlefield, but from what you have seen, you don’t like him. He’s haughty. Arrogant. Too  
sure of himself, and you hate that.

You steer your horse through the front gates of the palace, observing as your soldiers move  
about. There are still Hoshidans being picked off and captured here and there, but the battle is  
over and everyone here can tell that you’ve won. Hearing people beg for their lives as they try to  
flee is nothing new to you, but it’s satisfying all the same. It’s not difficult to tune out as you  
make your way inward. Pretty soon, all you’re able to hear is the steady clip-clop of your horse’s  
hooves as they tread through the expansive halls of Castle Shirasagi. It’s so much quieter  
inside. There are bodies, and blood, but no movement other than your own- everyone has either  
hidden, fled, or died. Fine by you, really. You’ve done enough fighting. You don’t really care to  
do anymore.

Vaguely, you take perverse pleasure in riding your horse indoors. You imagine that your older  
brother has probably dismounted for the sake of getting everything in order, but you’re perfectly  
fine staying right where you are atop your mount. It seems to be beneficial in its own way,  
because after a short while, the loud steps of your horse betray your position to your retainer.  
Odin hurries up to you, chest heaving with breath and tome clutched tightly in his hands. His  
clothes are tattered, shredded wide open in some places, but he’s struggling to conceal a grin.

“Lord Leo!” He cries, voice booming in the almost-empty halls, “The enemy forces are defeated!”  
A confident smirk twists his features up as one of his hands comes up to half-conceal his face,  
fingers curling like talons. Blood drips from a cut on his bicep as one practiced eye closes. “Your  
adversary, though he fought valiantly, proved unprepared for our brutal assault. The fruits of  
your cunning endeavors lie ripe for your picking as soon as you ordein to do so, milord..!”

You roll your eyes, but his smirk is contagious. “Very well. I trust Niles is in one piece, as well?  
And… behaving himself?”

“Of course. The bounty is for your partaking only, milord.”

“Good. In that case, lead me there. And clear away once I’ve entered. Niles, too.”

The ‘cunning endeavor’ Odin speaks of, of course, was a carefully planned sneak-attack. By the  
time your forces were able to make it to this place, you knew enough about the inside to find a  
place to bottleneck him. You’d told Odin and Niles that you wanted to execute the prince  
himself. And this is true. But you’ve also got other plans, and you don’t particularly want anyone  
else to be around to see them. Not even your retainers… Though, thinking on it, it might only be  
fair to let Niles play around a bit, too.

Maybe once you’re done.

“Niles thought it might be best to keep him out of the way of any prying eyes,” explains Odin as  
he leads you. “Since the capture was fairly early on. It was moderately difficult getting through  
him AND his retainers, but once we got through them, taking care of him was child’s play.”

He sounds confident, but you can tell that he’s taken quite a beating. All the same, their victory  
swells your chest up with pride. Odin eventually leads you to a door, and finally, you dismount.  
He takes the reins of your horse from you, and you tell him that once Niles meets up with him,  
they both should see Elise for some healing. He agrees without question, his smirk giving way to  
a giddy smile. You smile back at him briefly. Then you draw a breath and push the door open.

The room looks like it might be a spare bedroom. It’s very simple- there’s a bed, a dresser, a  
mirror. Another door to the side probably leads to a bathroom, if you had to guess. In the center  
of the room is Niles, bloody and bruised and looking absolutely smug. Down on his knees, in  
front of him, is the second prince of Hoshido. His wrists are bound behind him, his legs are  
bound tightly at the thighs, and there’s a thick gag in his mouth. His clothes are mostly  
destroyed, his hair is falling out of his ponytail in messy tresses caked with blood. Niles has a  
boot on his shoulder, and he’s holding him roughly by a fistful of his bloody hair when you enter.  
He peers up at you, his one eye narrowing fondly, and he grins.

“Sorry for damaging the goods,” he purrs, “but this one was really determined to play  
hard-to-get. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

“Perhaps,” you say, but of course he knows you’re being difficult. “I’ll have to give it closer  
inspection. For now, leave me. ...And leave me some more of your rope.”

“Anything for you, milord.” Niles takes his boot off of the fallen prince and sidles up to you,  
getting unnecessarily close as he reaches into his side-bag and hands you a short coil of rope.

“Do let me come back while he’s still warm,” he murmurs coyly, and you make a face and give  
him a light shove backwards.

“Dismissed, both of you,” you say, and a flick of your wrist shuts the door and locks it the  
moment they’re both out.

The prince makes an angry noise, muffled against the cloth in his mouth. He looks absolutely  
disheveled, though most of his injuries appear to be blunt. His eyes are red, and through the  
dust and dirt on his face you can make out obvious tear-streaks. He might be ashamed that he  
lost, you ponder, or perhaps he’s mourning the recent loss of his retainers. You start to wonder if  
his relationship with them is anything like your relationship with yours, and then you shake your  
head and very deliberately clear the thought.

You take a measured step forward, and then another.

“Prince Takumi.” You close the distance between the two of you. Slowly, you reach down and  
take the gag from his mouth.

“ _I’ll kill you,_ ” He rasps, voice hoarse and gravelly. It’s almost a shock what he sounds like-  
his face is fair, baby soft, even his furious expression seems sort of delicate. He flexes against  
his bonds, struggling hard, and through what remains of his clothing you can see every muscle  
in his body ripple. For a brief moment you find yourself feeling jealous-- but you remind yourself  
that strength isn’t everything. It’s your connivery that got you here, not muscle, and you’re the  
one victorious and he’s the one tied up.

“That’s cute,” you say, your brows arching. A scream rips up through him with an intensity that  
catches you off guard, and he lurches forward so suddenly that he almost bowls you over. You  
stumble back and he falls onto his side, still screaming and writhing like an animal, and you  
snarl and deliver a harsh kick to his ribs. He gasps, the wind knocked from him, and you take  
the opportunity to lean down and lift him up by the hair. He coughs, sputters, and you don’t give  
him time to recover before you use your free hand to backhand him across the face. His head  
snaps the side, and angry red lines well up across his cheek where your segmented gauntlets  
have all but split the skin open. A sickly mixture of drool and blood drip down his lips(soft and  
pink, you notice), and he keeps struggling to catch his breath.

There’s something absolutely awful twisting itself up in your gut, and you can feel your pulse  
hammering in your ears as you drop him to the ground and start to undo your tasset, and then  
your belt. When he finally regains some idea of what’s going on, he peers up at you shakily and  
grits his teeth, head shaking slightly.

“What the fuck are you doing.” His voice is quiet now, and sickly satisfaction blooms up in your  
chest when you detect a slight tremble. You can tell he’s more angry than scared, and some of  
that shaking is probably from how hard he wants to beat you into a bloody pulp, but behind all of  
that you can see the animal part of him that wants to flee. Having this kind of power over  
someone- it’s something you’ve wanted forever. Year after year of constantly deferring, of living  
in the shadows of your older siblings, your superiors, your father… have been so tiring. You  
have your retainers, but it’s different. It doesn’t make you feel the way you want to.

But this does.

This isn’t just being handed power- this is taking it, _seizing_ it, forceful, inarguable. You are  
claiming this.

Prince Takumi sucks in a sharp breath when you lift your tunic up, gently sliding the underside of  
your gauntlet against your shaft. He struggles, wriggling against his bonds, and by some  
impressive mastery over balance, manages to right himself so that he’s kneeling upward again.  
He shuffles backwards slightly, shaking his head a little more for emphasis, and you sneer as  
you take a step forward and grab him by the hair again. Your other hand comes down quick,  
your thumb hooking past his slightly parted lips, the sharp steel of your claws a threatening force  
in and over his cheeks. You make sure your grip is secure- he tries to shake his head free of  
your grasp, and you dig your claws in hard. A pained whimper bubbles up out of his throat, and  
it almost turns into a sob before he chokes it down. His fiery eyes snap tightly shut, and you  
revel in that small victory before all at once, you hilt yourself in his mouth.

You expect him to gag. Oddly, he doesn’t. Though it’s a little disappointing, you choose to take  
advantage of the convenience and start rocking your hips in and out. You take great pleasure in  
hearing his breaths get cut short every time you push in, and after a few pumps you hilt yourself  
again and hold him there, his nose crushed up against your pelvis and his tongue fumbling  
uselessly against the base of your dick. After a minute or so he starts to really squirm, and his  
eyes open to peer up at you, pleading, desperate, and when they start to roll up into the back of  
his head, you finally pull out. His lungs make a wounded noise, dragging in deep breaths for  
maybe two seconds before you slam back in again, picking up your jagged pace once more. His  
eyes and nose are both dripping now, and he’d be sobbing if he could get a breath in edgewise.

“I’m doing this for your benefit,” you croon, your own voice breathy. “You’ll thank me soon  
enough here.” The thought of making a mess all over his face is _very_ appealing,  
especially the thought of further ruining his hair. But you want to really take advantage of this  
opportunity while you have it, so eventually, you pull out of him and let him breathe again. Your  
thumb comes out of his mouth, and he snaps his jaws shut tight and shudders through a sob.

Leaning down, you grab him by the binds that hold his wrist in place, and with a grunt, you hoist  
him up onto the bed. Your steely claws make short work of the rest of his clothes, and you feel  
that excited flutter in your gut as you shred each article apart and reveal more and more of him.  
His body really is nice to look at, and it’s fairly smooth and mostly hairless. The blood and dirt  
almost seem to augment him, and there’s a light sheen of sweat that illuminates in the low light  
with every breath he heaves.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s speaking again, begging you, “Nonono- wait, please  
don’t,” and you lick your lips as you shove him down onto his back. Your careful claws pick open  
the bindings keeping his legs together. When they fail to fall apart for you, you shove them open  
and get between them. His face is distorted with panic, his pupils thin and his jaw slack as he  
gasps with horror, over and over.

“If I wait any longer, your spit is gonna dry.”

A frantic keening noise escapes him, and he squirms harder. You grip him by the thigh and dig  
your claws into the flesh until it gives, blood bubbling up from each puncture, and he cries out  
and stills. Satisfied, you yank him up closer to you, and then your other hand grips your cock  
and aligns it up against him. He yelps, clenching uselessly, and you shove into him with a grunt.  
It takes a few shoves to get all the way inside of him. He’s so fucking tight you can barely move.  
But he’s hot, and the crushing sensation eases up as you start to break him in, and it feels so  
good you almost go cross-eyed.

Everything about this feels so good that you only dully register that horrible sound that’s ripping  
out of him, an animal shrieking as something tears it into pieces. Fortunately, it is slick enough  
that you can move without tearing him up too much. Not that you really care if he gets hurt, it  
would just be inconvenient. After a moment, you realize your eyes have slipped closed, so you  
open them again to watch him as you pump in and out. His whole body is arching up. He’s doing  
everything he can to get away from you, which is absolutely nothing. Watching him struggle is  
intoxicating.

“You should be grateful, you know.” You deliver a hard slap to where you clawed open his thigh,  
and he sucks in a sharp gasp. “Most of the people here didn’t get to live. The High Prince  
didn’t.”

“Shut up,” he croaks, “shut up shut up shut up-”

You dig your claws into him again, pushing harder than last time and twisting the skin until you  
see colour start to well up. He wails, knocking his head back against the mattress, and you  
hump into him a little harder. He clenches up tighter when you hurt him, so you give him another  
slap.

“I came in here to kill you, but I think I like using you for this better. Must be nice being useful for  
something, huh? You clearly lack talent otherwise, or else you would have come out of this on  
top.”

A hiccuping sob is the only response you get at first, but after a few more pumps he drivels out  
“Please just- just kill me, you sick fucking freak-” a painful sounding sob cuts him off briefly, and  
then he continues. “I’d rather bleed out then do this for another fucking second.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.” Your other hand moves to grip his other thigh so you can hold  
them both in place and hammer a little harder. “But my retainer wants a turn with you once I’m  
finished. Though, I suppose he _did_ say he didn’t mind as long as you were still warm.”

Prince Takumi is shocked into stunned silence for a moment, and you laugh. “I’m only kidding.  
I’d prefer to bring you home still breathing. Don’t act so scared. You’ll warm up eventually.”

He grits his teeth and shuts his eyes again, and you lick your lips. For a moment you recall a  
session you once shared with Niles, and you slow your pace a bit. Carefully, you start to angle  
yourself upward, pushing in and out with careful deliberation. When Takumi’s breath hitches up  
in his throat and his eyes pop open, you know you’ve found your mark. He tries to squirm, but  
you hold him squarely in place and continue, slowly and shallowly thrusting up into that spot  
over and over again. His breathing gets more and more ragged, and finally he starts to beg  
“NononoNONONO--” and he’s spilling, his lip catching hard between his teeth as his body  
shudders. Cum pools up in his naval and between his abs, eventually spilling down his side as  
he shudders and whimpers. The hard pulsing of his inner muscles milks you wonderfully, and  
you groan softly and go slightly limp as you blow your load as deep into him as you can  
manage.

A few moments pass. Slowly, you pull out of him. His whole body is trembling, and when you  
withdraw from him, he curls up tight into a ball and tries and fails to muffle his crying. You step  
away from the bed and tuck yourself back into your trousers, settling your tunic and belt back  
into place before retrieving your tasset and fastening it. You lean over him, your body almost  
pressed up against his, as you retrieve the extra length of rope from your bag, which you use to  
fasten him tightly up against the headboard.

Not that you’re really concerned with him finding a way to leave. Maybe it’s just the principle.

“Wait here,” You say, smug. He doesn’t answer. “I’ll be back shortly. We’ll have to get you  
wrapped up to take home.”

You can hear him break down again as you turn away, and as you open the door to leave, you  
can’t help but look forward to watching Niles take _his_ turn.


End file.
